


With A Cherry On Top

by fictionalcandie



Series: Smitten 'verse [1]
Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Age Changes, First Kiss, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-04
Updated: 2010-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-20 07:57:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalcandie/pseuds/fictionalcandie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kris is older and knows things, and Adam has never been kissed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With A Cherry On Top

Kris doesn’t mean to kiss him. He really, really doesn’t mean to kiss him, at all, ever.

He actually has whole mental notebooks dedicated to how he is _not_ going to kiss Adam Lambert.

Not that Adam isn’t kissable — from the moment Kris met him, he’s known without a doubt that Adam is _definitely_ kissable — but he’s Kris’s, like, _protege_ , or something. Kris is Adam’s _mentor_. Plus, he’s older, and _experienced_ , and Adam _trusts_ him, and Adam’s a freaking _virgin_ , and Kris… Well, it would be wrong for Kris to kiss him. Wrong on a lot of levels.

Which doesn’t at all explain why Kris has Adam’s face in his hands, leaning over the center console so he can push his tongue into Adam's mouth and stroke Adam's with it. Or why he's hearing Adam's moans, of surprise and delight and arousal, and answering them with his own. Or why he's moving one hand into Adam's hair and twining his fingers through it to get a good grip.

Or why he's climbing over the really fucking annoying gear shift and batting Adam's ineffectually flailing hands out of the way so he can crawl into Adam's lap, get his knees fitted on either side of Adam's hips and grind down at the same time he tugs on Adam's hair and tips Adam's head back, back, all the way back, for better access—

— and holy shit, Kris knew Adam was packing, it was hard not to notice (despite how many times he told himself not to) what with all the tighttighttight pants, but now Adam's cock is big _and_ hard and Kris is riding against it like a man a decade younger, desperate, and _fuck_.

Adam is arching into it, little uncertain bucks of his hips, and he's whining high in the back of his throat. Kris wants to get Adam naked and have him make that noise without clothes between them, see what he could do with his tongue to make Adam sound like that, see what _other_ sounds come out of Adam when turned on and fucking someone. Shit, Kris wants Adam to fuck him. They could crawl into the back, maybe, it'd be a tight fit because Adam's big, but Kris isn't, and fucking would be a tight fit anyway because _Adam's big_ , and, God, Kris wants Adam to fuck him. Soon. Right now. _Yesterday_.

Adam's kissing back, eager and messy, but his hands won't stop moving, gripping Kris's thigh then the side of the seat then the door then the front of Kris's shirt, like Adam really doesn't know what to do with them, and oh dear _God_ of course he doesn't know what to do with them he's never even done _this_ before and Kris is _thinking about fucking him_.

Kris tears his mouth away from Adam's, panting.

Adam looks dazed, debauched, like someone who's been thrown into a whole world of unfamiliar sensation. His cheeks are flushed bright pink, his eyes glazed and huge and surrounded by glitter, his lips puffy and red beneath the streaks of gloss still clinging to them. Kris can feel the gloss smeared over his own mouth, now, too.

"We can't do this," he says breathlessly.

Adam flinches back like Kris just slapped him. He goes white, then red. "Oh."

Kris doesn't know what to say, can't think of anything except the way Adam's biting his bottom lip and Kris really, really would like to get his own teeth in it instead, so he just watches mutely while Adam averts his eyes and swallows.

"Right," Adam whispers. His hand, which had finally settled on Kris's hip, slides off. "I know."

Kris has to actually stop himself from grabbing that big hand and putting it back on him. Preferably with fewer layers between it and Kris's skin. "I mean, Adam, I... I _can't_. I'm sorry," he says helplessly.

"I know," repeats Adam, looking away. He's tense, now, leaning as far away from Kris as he can get before the seat stops him. He's still hard, though; Kris can feel Adam's erection along the inside of his thigh.

Feeling a little sick with how much he still _wants_ that big, hard cock — his mouth is actually watering, thinking about it — Kris scrambles off Adam's lap, back over the console, bumping the gear shift and tumbling, ungracefully, into the driver's seat.

"I should take you home," he mutters. "Like, now."

Adam shrugs woodenly. "Okay."

Kris swallows. His throat feels thick. He's still hard, too, _really_ hard, painfully so, his dick pressing against the fly of his jeans and tenting out the material obscenely — and all he wants to do is climb back on top of Adam and just rut and hump against him until they both come, hot and messy in their pants. (And then he'd like to sink down to his knees in the foot well, undo Adam's fly and open Adam's jeans, get his mouth around Adam's cock, lick him clean and work him hard again and— No.)

"Right, then," he says, and turns the key in the ignition.

Adam sits shotgun, staring out the window into the darkness, and doesn't say anything as Kris peels the Mustang out of the deserted lot. He looks turned on and innocent and— and _young_.

Kris still wants to kiss him. And blow him. And, God, get fucked by him.

Kris deserves to have his ass kicked.

—

Adam is, seriously, such a fucking idiot.

He's been telling himself for ages — days and weeks and _months_ — not to let on how attracted he is to Kris, because Kris is older and hotter and more experienced and would probably never be even remotely interested, and also he's sweet and funny and the most amazing person ever. There's no way he'd ever want Adam, definitely not as much as Adam wants _him_ — which, okay, Adam got over that already, he's cool with it now, he was just _never_ going to think about it ever again. And, oh, also, _definitely never act on his attraction_.

Yeah. That worked.

Right up until Kris leaned across the car, up into Adam's space, and pressed their lips together.

As soon as that happened, Adam was all kissing him back, grabbing at him like a perv and, oh god, humping up against him.

Kris, of course, put a stop to it, said they couldn't do it (whatever the hell 'it' was called when teenagers throw themselves at their hot, twenty-something friends), and told Adam that he was taking him home.

Now Adam is sitting in the passenger seat of Kris's car, mortified and turned on, trying to will his erection away and simultaneously not think about what caused the erection in the first place, while he stares unseeing out the window and Kris drives him back to his mom's house and probably plans to never speak to Adam ever again.

Fuck, Adam's an _idiot_.

Except, when they stop, they're not in Leila's driveway, they're in Kris's parking space outside his apartment complex. Kris is rigid in the driver's seat, his hands white-knuckled, one on the wheel and the other on the shifter.

A glance at his lap shows that Kris is hard, just like Adam.

Adam's heart flips over in his chest and starts beating double-time.

"What—" he tries to say, but his voice threatens to break like it hasn't in fucking years. He stops, clears his throat. "... Kris?"

"I'm going to hell for this," he thinks he hears Kris mutter.

Before he can ask what Kris is talking about, Kris is turning to face him, flushed and wide-eyed.

"I need you to tell me if you don't want this."

Honestly, Adam has no idea what _exactly_ Kris means by 'this', but there's no way he's saying no to _anything_ with Kris looking at him like that.

"I want you," he blurts, and blushes again, embarrassed and turned on — and, god, Kris looks like he's seconds away from being back in Adam's lap and the way he's holding onto his car is the only thing keeping it from happening. "Kris, I— You—"

Kris exhales, hard, and turns his head away again, his hands going for his seat belt. "Come up with me," he says, looking at the windshield, as the belt unclicks and slithers back into the holder.

Adam has his own seat belt off and is out the door before he can even think of how to respond to that.

But he doesn't have to, because Kris is right behind him, hand warm on the small of Adam's back as he herds Adam into the building and up to Kris's door.

Kris isn't looking at Adam, but it doesn't feel like it's because he doesn't want Adam, more like if he looks at Adam for more than a second he'll have Adam up against the nearest wall (his hands on Adam's face and in Adam's hair again, his solid little body pushing all up along Adam's front, riding his— his dick on Adam's thigh, or maybe against Adam's hip, _fuck_ ). Which is okay with Adam, really, because Adam feels kind of the same way, and while he would have no objections to Kris pushing him against things and kissing him dizzy and trembling again, Kris has an apartment very close by where they could do all that — maybe without clothes on, even — and no-one would interrupt them.

 _No-one will interrupt them_.

Oh, fuck.

Adam has never been this turned on before, ever, and he _doesn't even know for sure_ that they're going to do anything other than sit down and talk about how there will be no more kissing of Kris ever again.

But there _might_ be more.

Adam makes it to Kris's floor without doing something like coming in his pants and embarrassing himself or throwing himself on Kris and mauling him until Kris kicks him out, and he stops, waiting next to Kris's door for Kris to unlock it.

Kris stops too. He digs in his pocket, inhaling sharply as the movement drags his jeans over his erection — Adam balls his hands into fists to stop from reaching out and spreading one of them over Kris's crotch, gripping him through his jeans and seeing if he'll make an even louder noise then — and fumbles his keys out.

Adam's practically bouncing on his heels, impatient and restless, when Kris stills, key in the lock but not turned yet.

"When we get inside," Kris says, roughly, and he's _never_ sounded anything like this before, "I'm going to kiss you again."

"Okay," whispers Adam.

Kris leans forward and rests his forehead on the door, his eyes closed. He looks like he's trying not to pant audibly. "And," he continues, "then I want to suck your cock."

Adam's head spins a little.

"Oh, god. Fuck yes, please, _fuck_."

"Right," says Kris. He turns the key, twists the handle and shoves the door open. "Inside. Now." And then he's disappearing into his apartment.

Adam is right behind him, practically plastered to Kris's back.

—

Kris really had intended to drive Adam straight home, do not pass GO, do not receive two hundred dollars — or, y'know, get blown by your lecherous older mentor — but then his entire body mutinied against his good intentions.

It's just that Adam was sitting so tense and so quiet the whole ride, didn't even reach _once_ to turn the radio up or change the station, and he wasn't singing along, but he was still so flushed and his dick was still hard and _even more obvious than normal_ in his jeans and Kris felt bad.

And, okay, yeah, also, Kris _really wants to get his mouth around that cock_.

Kris is so going to hell.

But Adam is letting Kris drag him down Kris's hallway and he seems to be really on-board with the whole let's-blow-Adam plan, so, well, Kris isn't going to waste time beating himself up, not when he could be getting Adam back to his bedroom and Adam's cock out and— Actually.

Kris kind of _is_ wasting time, because he doesn't actually _need_ to have Adam in the bedroom to be getting Adam's cock out. He's pushing Adam against the wall even as he thinks it, his hands making quick work of Adam's belt and the zipper of his jeans.

Adam's leaking into the front of his briefs — which Kris has mixed feelings about because on the one hand, Kris'd been kind of hoping all those tighter-than-skin pants meant maybe Adam went commando, but on the other hand God that's fucking hot and now Kris wants to suck him through the cotton for a bit first — and he's also making these startled, desperate groaning noises and fuck, they're just turning Kris on even more.

He tugs the flaps of Adam's jeans apart as he pretty much just drops to his knees and dives forward, getting his mouth over the head of Adam's cock through his briefs, and he can't help moaning and tonguing at the fabric because holy shit Adam tastes good, musky and sharp and God, God, God, he's so _big_.

"Oh, fuck," Adam gasps, above Kris's head. And, as Kris pulls back enough to hook his fingers in Adam's waistband and pull the briefs and jeans down, he adds kind of brokenly, "Kris, no, _please_ —"

Then Kris has Adam's pants down past his hips, elastic digging into his thighs and his erection pushing up huge and red and wet, and Kris leans in, gets his lips around the fat head, hums happily at the size of it in his mouth, the taste of it on his tongue, and Adam goes abruptly wordless.

Kris starts to slide his mouth down, get just a little more in his mouth, still barely going past the head, and for a second he's distracted by Adam's hands, flailing around by his head, one settling on Kris's shoulder for a second and the other digging into the bunched up material of his own jeans. Kris wants to reassure him, tell him to just relax and enjoy it, but no way is Kris pulling off right now, not when he's got Adam's cock in his mouth, finally finally _finally_ after all those fucking months. So instead he grabs one of Adam's hands in his and puts on the back of his own head, presses hard enough that he's forced forward, farther down Adam's cock, and suddenly the fingers in his hair tighten as Adam _gets it_.

Kris hums again, his blood roaring in his ears, Adam's hard cock filling up his mouth and nudging at the back of his throat, his own cock jerking in his jeans and holy sweet Jesus, this is better even than Kris had dreamed about all those times he woke up to a mess in his underwear and a guilty squirmy good feeling in his belly.

The hand on his shoulder is working with the hand in his hair, pulling him in and down and then up and away again, Adam just going for it, like Kris wants, even though Adam still seems a little unsure, his hips thrusting shallowly, an uncertain stuttery rhythm, like he's not sure he's allowed. But Kris doesn't care if Adam moves, wouldn't care if Adam decided to hold Kris still and do the work himself, slide his cock in and out and just—

" _Holy shit_ ," breathes Adam, his hands going tight, and a second later he's coming, hips jerking up hard as he spills in Kris's mouth. Kris gags a little, does his best to swallow anyway, leaves a mess down his chin as he pulls back to pant and lick his lips, Adam silent above him except for the harsh rasp of his heavy breathing.

Kris wipes most of the come and spit off his face with the back of one hand — the other in his lap pushing down hard on his own erection — hearing a strangled whimper and looking up at Adam as he does.

Adam's gone kind of boneless against the wall, eyes enormous, glassy pools of blue, and he's staring at Kris like he's considering idol worship or something. " _God_ ," he says, awed and blissed-out.

Now, here's the thing.

Kris had really, really meant for blowing Adam to be the end of it. Just once, he'd get his mouth on Adam's dick, get him off, then explain that he was too old for Adam and they couldn't do this even though Adam was really attractive and awesome and Kris was kind of gone for him, because doing it once was okay, Kris could even argue that it was, like, _nice_ , but anything else would just be—

Only after seeing Adam like this, Kris doesn't really actually care all that much how big of a creepy perv it makes him that he wants his younger — well, _Adam_ — to fuck him. Tonight, and in the morning, and two weeks from now, and in five years, and fuck.

Kris is in so much shit.

He does. not. fucking. care.

"Okay," he says, only it comes out a fucked-out slur, "we need to move this to my bedroom."

"Uh?" Adam grunts, questioningly.

"I kind of need to get your cock in me, like _right now_ ," Kris explains, "and it'd be a lot more comfortable to ride you on the bed than here in the hall."

" _Fuck_." Adam's eyes sort of... roll up in his head and he looks like he's in danger of his legs giving out on him and yeah, Kris needs — physically _needs_ — to hit this.

"Bedroom," he says firmly, and gets to his feet.

—

Adam's brain is gone.

That's... all there is to it.

Kris kissed him and now his brain's melted out his ears, and it's gone, and that's why he's hallucinating that he's in Kris's apartment, following Kris into his bedroom on legs that are still unsteady from an orgasm that was, seriously, way too fucking hot to be real, and Kris is talking about _riding Adam's cock_ and just— Yeah. Brain, gone.

Except apparently Adam isn't actually hallucinating, this is actually happening, and Adam really is getting pushed backwards to flop on Kris's bed while Kris follows him down and attacks the buttons on Adam's shirt with quick fingers.

Adam would not have any problems with this being reality, but— Well. Adam's cock is still lying, flushed and sensitive, thick with blood, on his belly, and his jeans and briefs are around his hips and, and... Kris is still fully dressed. Adam doesn't want to be naked while Kris is fully dressed.

Also Adam wants to see Kris naked. Like, really badly.

"Are you gonna—" he asks, his hands coming up and getting in Kris's way, trying to slow him down without actually stopping him.

Kris shakes his head. "You first," he says firmly, in that voice he used at the door and then again in the hallway when he told Adam they were going to fuck, that voice that sounds like sweat and sex and Adam really can't argue with it at all. He drops his hands back to the bed at his sides.

He watches as Kris finishes undoing buttons and pulls the sides of the shirt apart, sits up and helpfully wiggles out of the sleeves. He doesn't protest when Kris tosses the shirt off the side of the bed, mostly because he's busy trying to figure how to hold his arms so they cover the most of him without making him look like a moron.

Kris doesn't even notice. He crawls down to the end of the bed, perched on his knees (and that position reminds Adam of the hallway and Kris with his mouth around Adam and it's fucking _awesome_ enough to get Adam's cock twitching with interest even though he's flushing self-consciously because, god, Kris can see _everything_ ), and tugs off Adam's boots and right away strips Adam's pants off too.

Then, before Adam can even draw enough breath to protest, Kris is getting _all the way off the bed_ and that's not cool, not cool at all— oh shit what if now Kris got a good look at Adam he doesn't want Adam to fuck him anymore? Oh, shit, shit, of course he wouldn't really want that anymore, Adam is a moron, a total moron and he should have made Kris get naked _first_ so at least Adam would get to see—

—Kris naked, like Kris is getting, right this second, pulling his shirt straight off over his head and throwing it across the room, unbuckling his belt and opening his jeans (pausing for less than a second to cup his dick through his boxer briefs and moan, which, wow, that might be the hottest thing Adam's ever seen in his entire _life_ and he watches _a lot_ of porn okay) then kicking his sneakers off and wriggling — fucking literally _wriggling_ , hips shimmying and everything — his way out of his jeans and underwear and. And.

Oh, holy...

Kris is naked.

Adam makes a noise that he's sure normally he would find seven million kinds of embarrassing and completely mortifying, but for once he doesn't care, because Kris is there, right there in front of him, totally naked, his skin all bare and pink and his pretty cock all hard and— and— and _dripping_ and god Adam can't even process this.

Kris walks around the bed, naked, looking totally comfortable with Adam staring at his totally exposed body, and opens the nightstand drawer, reaching inside and pulling something out. It only takes him a second to get whatever he's after, then he's climbing back up on the bed, dropping _lube and a condom oh god_ next to Adam as he crawls back over him. His hands on Adam's shoulders push Adam back down flat as he swings a leg over Adam and straddles Adam's stomach, and he's leaning down (his _naked erection_ brushing Adam's belly, fuck, leaving a slick spot of pre-come on skin) to kiss Adam all dirty, get his tongue in Adam's mouth and his teeth around Adam's lip and fuck how does he even kiss like this, like everything, all at once?

Adam whimpers, and Kris separates their mouths. Just a tiny bit, just enough to make words.

"For this to work I need you hard," he says, all low and husky, fucking _hot_ , and it's Adam's new favorite sound on him. "Can you do that? Can you get hard again for me, Adam?"

It's just about the stupidest question in the history of _ever_.

"Yeah," Adam gasps, unconsciously thrusting his hips up into the air, rubbing against nothing; his cock really is filling up again and god he wants some friction, some pressure, _something_ , "yeah, definitely."

"Good," Kris whispers, and kisses Adam again as he grabs the lube, gets it open and pours some over his own hand.

Adam sucks Kris's lip into his mouth and tries his best not to whimper again. He's not sure he succeeds and he knows he doesn't care.

Kris breaks the kiss and raises himself up higher, still on his knees over Adam's stomach, curves his arm around to his back, his hand heading for— Adam can't see but he imagines the visual that would greet him if he could, imagines those lube shiny fingers stroking Kris's hole, over and over, one pushing in, steady but impatient. Imagines Kris's knuckle catching at the rim, imagines him working more fingers in.

Kris is squirming above Adam (his head tipped back, his neck bared and on display), supporting himself with a hand spread on the bed back by Adam's thighs. He's _actually squirming_ , his hips are wriggling in little twitching jerks and one second he's panting all harsh and raggedy, the next he's biting his lip on a moan and fucking back on his hand sharply. Shit, he's fucking himself and _loving_ it, looking made for sex, made for _this_ — like he should do this all the time, just this, get his fingers up in his ass and drive himself crazy — maybe not even his _fingers_ , maybe he's got a dildo and fucks himself on that too, big fake cock he can sink into himself—

Adam moans.

He's getting all the way hard again, faster than he has since he was fifteen and discovered what actual _sex_ was, and he may still be a virgin but he _knows_ what Kris is planning and shit does he ever want it. The thought of Kris around his cock — _riding him_ — is something he hasn't been able to escape from since he met Kris. Now that it's going to actually happen, he's kind of operating on autopilot. But man, who could do anything else, with Kris above them?

"Ready?" Kris asks, his voice all breathy, reaching for a condom with his clean hand, then shuffling back so he's over Adam's thighs.

"Yes," says Adam, doing his very, very best not to arch up, especially as Kris gets the condom packet open and rolls the latex down Adam's cock, " _fuck_ , yes."

Moving forward again, over Adam's hips, Kris curls a slick hand around Adam's cock and guides it to his hole, bearing down, the head popping in and oh _god in heaven_. Adam's brain goes a little fuzzy. Kris pulls his hand away and moves it to the mattress, helping him balance as he sinks down.

Slick, tight heat starts to envelop Adam's cock and holy crap it's good, fuck, it's the best thing he's ever felt, especially with Kris above him, head thrown back exposing his neck (there's a bead of sweat rolling down it, starting at the corner of his jaw and making a lazy trail around his adam's apple and down, to his collar bone and the tiny hollow at the base of his throat), skin flushing pink all over, and his nipples pebbling up. His cock is seriously hard, curving up from his hips, dripping and so dark it looks painful, but Kris isn't even trying to touch it.

Adam still doesn't know what he should be doing with his hands, he can't clutch the sheets 'cause Kris is already doing that as he works himself further down — his eyes are blown and these little breathy exclamations keep punching out of his chest, the more of Adam's (not small) dick he gets in him — and he can't grab at Kris because if he so much as _touches_ Kris he knows he'll be pulling Kris's hips down, hard, flush with his own, and he has absolutely no intention of rushing this but shit, shit fuck goddamn he _just fucking came_ and his cock is only halfway into Kris and he already feels like he's going to explode.

"Please," he whispers, finally settling for lifting his legs a little and cupping his hands around the backs of his own thighs, "oh, god, _please_ , Kris—"

"Shh," Kris actually fucking _croons_ (and how is _that_ helping), as he moves the rest of the way down in one smooth glide, taking Adam _all the fucking way in_. "Oh, oh, _Adam_."

Adam can't speak. He tries, but he literally can't get anything out of his throat other than a long, drawn-out moan.

He thought Kris's mouth around him was amazing.

This is better.

Especially when Kris starts to move. Fucking _shit_ , Adam can't be expected to last very long with a vise like Kris's ass around him, riding up and down and rocking forward and back again, Kris's insides clinging and milking, fucking amazing, with his lithe body looking so hot and dirty and gorgeous as Adam watches Kris ride him. Muscles all along Kris's body flex as he arches up, pulling off Adam's cock, and then even more muscles flex as he pushes himself down again, his skin all over gleaming, golden and soft, and at some point Adam's going to taste it all (lick his way up from Kris's ankles to his fucking delicious neck, tongue and worry those nipples, suck Kris's perfect hot cock, mark up his skin and own the fuck out of his body because now Adam's got a sample of it he's never letting any of it go to anyone else, Kris is fucking _his_ ), but just at the moment he's content to plant his heels on the mattress and thrust his cock up hard in Kris's ass, make him gasp and moan.

"So _big_ ," he thinks he hears Kris say, then he _does_ hear Kris whimper, and Kris is riding him faster now.

Kris puts a hand on Adam's chest, wraps the other — the shiny one, the lubed one, _the one he fucked himself with_ — around his own cock and starts moving it, jacking himself fast and sloppy, like he's desperate, like he's just on the edge and about to come—

And then he _is_ shuddering and keening and spilling over his fingers, thick milky pulses, as his ass tightens up around Adam, and that's it, Adam is _gone_.

" _Kris_ ," he whimpers, and Kris is leaning down (cock smearing come all messy over Adam's stomach, and that's hot, god) to kiss him as Adam comes hard inside him, still thrusting erratically, filling up the condom and _fuck_. Adam's in heaven.

His _brain whites out_ , not even kidding.

When Adam checks back in with reality, Kris has stopped moving and is lying, heavy and limp, on Adam's chest, saying Adam's name. And he sounds kind of hesitant and worried, and maybe he thinks he killed Adam or Adam didn't like it or something, and Adam can't have that (because yeah maybe Kris killed him, a little, but Kris can kill him like this whenever he wants), so Adam makes his mouth work enough to speak back. Sort of.

"Mm. Kris."

Apparently it's enough, because Kris sighs, like he's relieved, and chuckles. He kisses Adam quickly, and then he's moving.

Adam makes a little noise of loss as Kris pulls off, lies there and feels his boneless body trying to meld with the bed as Kris strips the condom off and moves away, coming back a moment later with something cool and damp he wipes Adam with (his chest and his stomach and his cock and _mmm that feels nice_ ) before he disappears again.

Then he's back, getting on the bed and spreading a blanket over them, tucking himself into Adam's side, and he sighs happily as Adam curls an arm around his shoulders and pulls him closer.

"We're doing that again," Adam finally slurs, barely awake, but it _needs_ to be said, because there's no way Kris is getting rid of him now.

Kris snickers into Adam's shoulder.

"Yeah," he mumbles, perfectly agreeable, "later, 'kay?"

Adam is completely okay with that.

He needs a nap before he tries to fuck Kris through the mattress, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as commentfic [here](http://duva.dreamwidth.org/670329.html?thread=5122169#cmt5122169). Can also be read [on DW](http://gailsauce.dreamwidth.org/75977.html) or [on LJ](http://gailsauce.livejournal.com/76471.html).


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